


No Valley Low Enough

by katmarajade



Series: No Mountain High Enough [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apologies, Declarations Of Love, Long Overdue Thank Yous, M/M, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie comes to some startling, life-changing realizations after Neville saves his life in the mountains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Valley Low Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to _No Mountain High Enough_ , [](http://secretsolitaire.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://secretsolitaire.livejournal.com/)**secretsolitaire** 's gift from last year that (after 1800 words) didn't get the ending it deserved. So consider this the one where Charlie finally says thank you, bb. This fic can stand alone and should make sense, but for the full effect, I suggest reading it alongside its prequel.

Charlie was no stranger to surprises. He'd learned to expect the unexpected and never hold too tightly to any one supposition, because when you work with dragons, thinking you know what they'll do next is a surefire way to get yourself killed. It's a lesson every greenie learns quickly at the Reserve.

Dragons are amazing-- beautiful, glorious, and awe-inspiring. They're also deadly—fierce, dangerous, and wild. Almost everyone on the Reserve has struggled with the hard truth. Dragons may grow accustomed to humans. They may even tolerate them. From time to time (if it's what they want too) they will even do what a handler wants. But no matter how friendly they might seem for one flickering moment or how cocky you feel after a success … you can never, ever tame a dragon.

But it wasn't just the dragons that have him on edge. For months Charlie had been jumpy. (Getting thrown into the mountains by a panicked Welsh Green and left for dead can do that to a bloke.)

Only one person had come after him. Of all the tough, courageous bad-asses on the Reserve, it was the guest Herbologist—a bumbling, slightly pudgy _kid_ his littlest brother's age who had saved him.

Who'd almost died to bring him home.

And after all of it, Neville didn't even _like_ him.

Charlie had never felt more pathetic in his life than when he had magnanimously told the story of Neville's heroics to their colleagues, somehow thinking Neville would be grateful for his help in making him more accepted.

Neville had had the decency to wait until they were alone before telling him off. Charlie still cringed just thinking about it.

Charlie kept his distance after that, his pride pricked and his feathers a bit ruffled. He was a stand up sort of fellow, friendly, cheerful, well-liked. No one (and least no one who mattered) had ever _not_ liked Charlie Weasley.

He watched from a distance and began to realize how this school chum of his little brother's was perhaps older in spirit than any of the carefree daredevils on the Reserve. Neville never bothered with bluster or bravado. He never acted brave or cocky. He never bragged or told dangerous survival tales.

Like the rest of the Dragon Reserve crew, Charlie had seen that as weakness at first. He was used to everyone showcasing their accomplishments and risking life and limb for an adrenaline rush or a good story.

Neville didn't say anything but Charlie began to realize that that in and of itself was a hallmark of a real hero. Not a dragon-loving daredevil but someone who risked it all for something real. And that began to eat at him. He'd always thought of himself as reasonably heroic. He'd been a Gryffindor, a generally good bloke. He'd been a charming school boy who had saved first years from bullies and told off people who hurt his friends. He'd been a daring flyer and impressed everyone with his skills, and he had kept impressing them when he received his Dragon Handling apprenticeship during his seventh year. He'd offered up his position to the Order of the Phoenix and passed on information during the war. He'd come back for the final battle.

He was the type of man people called brave. But now he wasn't so sure.

Was it really courage when it was fun and exciting? When you knew you'd be praised for your daring? Charlie didn't know anymore but it continued to plague him, and his friends began noticing the change too.

The next year Charlie went home for Christmas. He'd missed three years in a row and wouldn't let himself skip another. It had been easier to avoid them, because he didn't have to deal with the reality of losing a brother that way. Not that he didn't already think about it every day, but going home would make it real. He'd always pretended it was courage not cowardice to hide behind a brave face and 1500 miles; work was the perfect excuse. Perhaps real courage was letting his family see him cry when he put his Christmas present under the tree, the one he had never got around to giving Fred and now never would.

The more he thought about it, real courage was being there for his family when they needed him, even when it was difficult for him, even if it wasn't truly where his wanderlust-ridden soul wanted to be. Sometimes it took more courage to abandon a dream for a good reason than to follow it for the wrong ones, and Charlie was finally learning that.

In the end, moving back to England was easier than he'd expected. By that point, he'd realized how much he was needed there and how much he wanted to be the person his family needed him to be. And how much he _liked_ that Charlie.

Two years to the day from when he was dropped into the mountains, Charlie appeared at Neville's front door. When a stunned Neville opened his door, Charlie began speaking immediately.

"I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry. I was a total arse and I'm sorry. I didn't even thank you, not properly. I mean, what sort of person even does that? You risked everything to save me when you didn't even like me."

Neville made an odd face like he was going to interrupt but Charlie pressed on, not giving him the chance.

"So thank you for saving me and risking your life for me when you didn't have to. And thank you for being a better person than I am."

Neville raised his eyebrows in disbelief at that last but let Charlie continue.

"I'm better now, a bit, you know. I'm actually grateful and even apologize when I fuck up. I'm trying to be less of an arrogant arseface, thought I don't always manage it entirely."

A smile.

"And I'm more appreciative and understanding. I'm trying to think of other people too now, not just myself, and it's better. I'm better. Still not anywhere near the Neville end of the spectrum, but I feel I've moved past total jerk and am now in the moderately decent sort of bloke zone. So I hope you can forgive me and actually maybe start liking me, just a little, because I'm back now—family stuff—and it would be nice to have a friend."

Neville started laughing and Charlie balked in surprise. Neville was the good one—he wasn't supposed to laugh at him!

"Charlie, come on in." Neville ushered him in from the cold and shut the door. "Look, I think you've got a mad notion that I'm this perfect, selfless hero, and well, I'm _not_. I mean, I'm just like anyone else and sometimes I can be a real jerk too. "

Charlie shrugged. "So far I've seen no evidence of that."

Neville laughed again, a loud, booming sound that rumbled from his barreled chest like languid thunder. It was a good laugh, Charlie thought.

"Well," Neville continued. "If it's what you're after, I forgive you for being a prat and I accept your gratitude for saving your sorry skin."

Brightening, Charlie said, "That's a good start! But now can I convince you I've changed and that I'm someone worth liking now?"

Of all the possible responses from the tall, broad-shouldered, kind-faced, genial, generally stand up sort of gentleman that was Neville Longbottom, Charlie would never have seen the blush coming.

Neville's face turned surprisingly pink and he actually resembled the sweet, bumbling kid from his younger days.

"That was never exactly the problem, Charlie," Neville muttered.

Charlie looked at him blankly. "But you said you didn't like me."

"Well, yes, I did. And in some ways it was quite true. You really were an ungrateful, cocky twat, and you treated me like a bloody fourth year."

"So you _didn't_ like me," Charlie said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I didn't like how you treated me, or others for that matter, but liking you was never the problem. It's only, I've always had a soft spot for short gingers and I had, well, a bit of a crush, to be honest."

Charlie gaped at him.

"But you were so darn cocky!" Neville continued. "I didn't want to bolster your already too large ego by telling you, and I didn't want to feed into the annoying perception you had of me as a clumsy kid by admitting it.

Nodding, Charlie said, "I don't think you're a bumbling kid _now_."

Neville rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Which is why I thought you deserved an explanation, so you didn't keep moping about convinced that there was one person in the history of humanity who didn't adore you. I thought you deserved to know that I had had feelings for you."

"Wait—had? So not so much anymore?" Charlie frowned.

Raking a hand through his messy brown hair, Neville responded, "Yes, had. So if you still want a friend, I'm available."

Charlie studied him. "And if I decide I don't want you as a friend?"

"Well, that's your prerogative, isn't it? You're the one who came to my door begging forgiveness and wanting to be friends." Neville's offended tone made Charlie grin.

"I was sort of hoping you'd be sufficiently charmed by my winning smile, impressive physique, and general good humor and you'd decide I was still worth taking a chance on."

At that, Neville's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean _take a chance on_?"

"Take a chance on me. I can be wonderful and romantic, and I think I could make you laugh and I know my family would love you and I'm a good listener, despite previous evidence to the contrary, and I'm also ace in the sack."

Neville turned white and stared at Charlie, who gave him his most charming smile.

"If you change your mind and think I might be worth your time—and I promise I would be!—well, I'm not going anywhere. You know where to find me."

And leaving a speechless Neville standing in his own foyer, Charlie started home. He hadn't even gone past the driveway before he was being pulled backwards into warm, strong arms and snogged so deeply and so well that heat flooded his body despite the frigid air, and his toes curled.

This being a better man thing was brilliant.


End file.
